Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (32 page)

“Do you understand your relationship with Misha now?”

Jenevra glanced at her mentor. The question was totally unlike him. “Yes, Ki-Nimh,” she agreed, hesitantly. “This was our one day to be who we really are with each other: our only day. It can never happen again.” She sighed deeply. “We just had to have today to understand that. I’m sorry we had to disappoint you to do it.”

Ki-Nimh surprised her by placing his hand on her shoulder. “I need to speak to Misha. Go see my mother, Jenna. Apparently she understands you better than I do!”

Jenevra bowed deeply as she would have done on the Island and went to find Lady Menzetti and the Flight.

Brogan seemed peculiarly calm when she found him in the stables with Bernardo and Bran. “They’ve just returned from looking for you and the idiot Prince, Captain,” he gestured at the weary pair. “But it appears they didn’t find you … lost the trail.” A strangely cynical tone colored his words. “I have, however, spoken to Prince Mikhail on the subject of abducting Princesses.”

“I’m sorry, Brogan.” Jenevra said softly. “And you two. I didn’t mean for you to waste time looking for us. I just came to apologize.”

“Captains don’t apologize, Captain.” Brogan growled.

“This one does, Sergeant.” Jenevra turned to leave the stables. Catching Bernardo’s eye, she beckoned to him. As he bent near to her she kissed him on the cheek.

Bright red, he mumbled, “What was that for?”

Jenevra grinned. “When did you ever lose a trail? Thank you,” she whispered.

 CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The journey to Kansk, capital city of the unified states of Abalos-Colles was peacefully uneventful, much to Brogan’s relief. Jenevra rode at the head of the Flight, flanked by Ki-Nimh and Brogan, while Mikhail rode farther back. To all appearances they were resigned to their proper roles again, although Brogan was choosing to ignore the long glances they gave each other when they thought they weren’t looking. The princess was quieter on this journey: riding for miles at a stretch without saying anything, a distant look on her face.

The Flight was even sensitive to the change, D’Agostino keeping his comments to himself with an unusual degree of tact. Even when Brogan had asked him to try cheering the princess up, he had refrained from treading on the subject of Mikhail. Riding steadily, they made good time across the Plains heading south to Abalos-Colles. Skirting the southern edge of the Forest of Speir, they crossed the great Abalos River at its only possible fording point near the border with Abalos-Undae. The river formed a natural boundary between the three regions of the Kingdom of Abalos-Colles, finally running far to the east into Lorthia.

Seven days after leaving Mirizir, they rode into an inn just east of Kansk, the Abaleine capital city. Taking a few hours to wash and smarten up, the entire Flight resumed the final leg of the journey in their formal uniforms; gleaming mail and horses brushed clean of dust, ready to present the formal face of the Empire to King Aleksander and his court. Adapting her formal attire slightly, Jenevra added a pair of tight white trousers to the ensemble. Mounted on the black horse she had ridden when the talisman had been activated, she was a vision of gleaming silver mail, white and gold armor, with a white cloak flowing behind her. The horse pranced along merrily, apparently sensing the occasion and performing for all it was worth.

“He’s a show-off, my Lady,” Laio noted with a grin from on top of his wagon. “He’s unusual in his coloring: maybe he just knows he’s special.”

Jenevra smiled, reaching forward to ruffle the pale pewter colored mane lying silkily along the horse’s ebony neck. “He’s certainly a character, Laio.”

“Did you ever decide to name him, Captain?”

Her smile turned wicked. “He’s vain; I was thinking of calling him Blaise.”

“Blaze? That sort of suits him, my Lady, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea, Laio!” Jenevra laughed for the first time since leaving Lady Menzetti’s estate, then pushed the newly named horse into the front of the Flight as they rode into Kansk and headed for the palace of King Aleksander, Misha’s father.

“Welcome to Abalos-Colles your Imperial Highness,” King Aleksander greeted Jenevra personally. Although he hadn’t wanted Mikhail to marry the young Princess, the King was a shrewd politician, and would make sure the Empire’s representative was treated with all courtesy due to her rank. “There are quarters for your Flight in the main barracks. May I offer the hospitality of the Palace to your senior officers?”

Feeling Brogan’s eyes boring into the back of her neck, Jenevra bowed her head graciously and accepted a room for Kian, to Brogan’s audible relief. Dismissing the Flight to their quarters she warned Brogan to keep the men on a tight rein. “Misha’s marrying Corros’s daughter, Cieren’s sister,” she reminded him. “I know Dillon’s going to want answers, but make sure he knows that now is not the time or place. It’s likely that they know what we saw and did back in Albor by now. They may try to provoke something using that. Eyes and ears need to be open, and mouths firmly shut, no matter what they hear. It gets reported back to you or me—no-one else. Any trouble with the Diruthians and I’ll deal with it just like I did with Theiss.”

Brogan nodded grimly. “I’m glad you chose to keep Master Ki with you Captain. I wouldn’t trust any of them down here.”

The Court was a little less formal than the Imperial court at Salanova, and Jenevra found herself invited into the royal family’s own rooms later that evening after dinner. The whole family was there, engaged in various pastimes. King Aleksander and his wife Queen Daneshka were playing a card game with King Corros and King Caddoc Wargentin of Lorthia. Queen Odilia, Caddoc’s young wife, sat nearby watching, with the Crown Prince of Lorthia, Baran Wargentin, standing close by. Prince Cieren was standing behind his sister, Artela, talking to Mikhail. Fortunately, Jenevra had missed the reunion of the betrothed couple, but still felt a pang as she noted Misha’s hand firmly clasped by Artela’s.

Caddoc’s younger son, Conall, had been watching Misha’s sister, Allegra, taking a harsh lesson in chess from the Abaleine Prime Minister, a meticulously groomed and surprisingly young man named Menegri. Seeing Jenevra enter the room, Conall had moved swiftly to greet her. Always in the shadow of his ebullient older brother, he had found a friendly rapport with this dark shadow of the golden Couressimes. “Hello, Princess,” he smiled warmly at her. “Good journey?”

“Not bad,” Jenevra kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I rather thought we might pop down to Lorthia sometime soon. Maybe bring the Flight down there for some hunting?” She turned her head as Prime Minister Menegri’s voice caught her attention. “What’s going on there?” she asked Conall.

“The Minister’s been trying to teach Princess Allegra to play chess. It’s not going terribly well.” Conall’s voice held a wry tone that surprised Jenevra.

“Checkmate Your Highness.” Menegri shook his head sadly. “I do keep telling your Highness that there is little point in our continuing these lessons. Women simply don’t have the mental capacity for such a strategic game.”

Master Ki had entered the room just as Menegri made his pompous pronouncement, and his eyebrows shot up in baffled amusement. Strolling across to Jenevra, he stood at her side and asked if she would care to introduce him to the Prime Minister.

“Prime Minister Menegri, have you met Kian Menzetti, son of our own beloved Chancellor?”

Menegri stood up and shook hands with Kian. “Delighted, sir. I’ve been an admirer of your father’s for many years. I trust he’s well?”

Kian smiled gently. “Indeed, he is; thank you. Perhaps we should leave these young people to their own amusements?” Kian and the Prime Minister moved towards the Kings near the fireplace.

Jenevra, Allegra and Conall moved out onto a large balcony overlooking the huge Lake. Lanterns provided plenty of light for talking, casting a golden glow over them all. The Lake lay still in the late evening, a black mirror of the starlit sky above them.

“Will there be any other members of the Imperial Family attending the wedding?” Princess Allegra asked, nonchalantly twisting an auburn curl around a finger.

“You mean is Stephan coming?” Jenevra laughed. “Not as far as I know, Allegra, but I’m sure he would if he could. Someone may yet turn up. They don’t let me know what’s going on all the time, you know. And we’ve been a little out of touch lately.”

“With Mikhail?” Allegra and Conall shared a look of understanding as they turned to Jenevra.

The princess chewed lightly on her lip. “Yes,” she said shortly. “With Mikhail.”

“Why aren’t you fighting for him, Princess?” Allegra leaned forward intently, grasping hold of Jenevra’s hands. “If you told my parents how you both feel, they could stop this.”

A look of pain flashed across Jenevra’s face as she shook her head. “I couldn’t do it to Artela, even if I thought your parents would listen.” She gazed back inside the room where Artela was beaming devotedly at Misha, clinging tightly to him as if she would never be parted from his side. “It’d be like kicking a puppy. She’s so happy.”

“But you’re the one who’s really in love with him,” Conall said unexpectedly. “Why should you be miserable?”

“I’m not in love with Misha. I love him, yes, but Artela’s
in
love with him, Conall. It may be because he’s the first man who’s treated her with any degree of kindness in years; it may be because it’s her escape from that family of hers.” Jenevra gave a sad sigh. “It really doesn’t matter why. King Aleksander wants a daughter-in-law he has some control over, not a troublemaker like me.”

They all shared a smile at that.

“I still can’t believe you won’t fight for him,” Allegra persisted. “I would.”

“Really?” Jenevra looked amused. “So, when your father tells you he’s promised you to Cieren of Diruthia you’ll tell him you’ll only marry my brother Stephan? I’ll look forward to watching that confrontation, Allegra!”

Allegra’s green eyes opened wide. “He’s promised me to Cieren? Where did you hear that?”

“Nowhere, Allegra: don’t panic. As far as I know your father doesn’t have any plans for you yet. But Cieren’s spending a lot of time smarming around the adults.” Jenevra’s tone conveyed her growing distrust of the Prince of Diruthia. “But I promise to tell Stephan to make a move as soon as I see him next.”

“Maybe he’ll come to Lorthia with Admiral Massili next week,” Conall observed. “The Admiral always comes this time of year. He loves to go boar hunting with my father, and then they spend a week drinking and singing dreadful songs. I’m sure the Admiral makes half of them up as he goes along.”

“Rafael’s coming to Lorthia? I will come along then, if you can wring an invitation out of your father for me, Conall?” Jenevra mused. “Maybe between us we can curb the Admiral’s wilder moments?” There was an increase in noise inside the room and Allegra peered back in though the open doors. Looking flustered, she flapped her hands at them both. “They’re here! I thought you said he wasn’t coming. He’s here! Do I look alright?”

Grabbing hold of Allegra’s hand, Jenevra dragged her back into the room where Stephan and Richard Couressime were greeting King Alexander and Queen Daneshka, apologizing profusely for their late arrival; apparently due to one of their horses becoming lame on the journey. They greeted Kings Corros and Caddoc politely before turning to greet their sister.

Jenevra hugged them both warmly, pulling Allegra up next to her and pointing her at Stephan. “You remember Princess Allegra, Stephan? I told her you’d be saving the first dance for her at the wedding.”

Stephan gave a sheepish grin as he kissed Allegra’s hand. “Delighted, Princess Allegra. I have fond memories of our dances at my cousin’s wedding. I hope I can spend a little more time with you here; with your father’s permission, of course.”

“She would be delighted, wouldn’t you, Allegra?” King Aleksander didn’t need to encourage his daughter but, as ever, fathers are the last to know when their daughters fall in love. Pouring wine for the new arrivals, King Aleksander brought them over to join the other monarchs.

Jenevra moved back into the shadows where Conall was sitting, watching. “You’re looking serious,” she noted. “What is it? Were you hoping for Allegra?” A sudden look of concern crossed her face. “Oh no, Conall, you aren’t …?”

‘No, Princess,” he smiled grimly. “I was just a bit surprised by the look on King Corros’s face when you greeted your brothers. I didn’t know he hated you.”

Jenevra turned her face to him, eyebrows raised.

“There was no mistaking the look on his face when he saw you with your brothers,” Conall confirmed. “What have you ever done to him?”

“I’m not sure.” Jenevra frowned. “When Phillip announced me as Imperial Protector; Corros was expecting Phillip to announce my betrothal to Cieren. That’s why they were angry then. I didn’t think he’d hold a grudge for that. I guess I was wrong.” She sat back, gazing across the room at the Diruthian monarch greeting her brothers. With the advantage of Conall’s observation she could see that Corros’s good humor was slightly strained; his smile was chilly, never quite reaching his eyes. The elderly King Caddoc, however, was another case, slapping both Couressime brothers on the back fondly and beaming at them in obvious delight.

Nudging Conall with an elbow, Jenevra muttered to him to keep watching Corros’s expression. Crossing the room, she walked directly up to her brothers. With one arm around Stephan and her hand in Richard’s, she asked the assembled adults to excuse them while she caught up with her brothers, to find out how their sister was. Smiling disarmingly at them all, she dragged them over to the corner where Conall was waiting. Baran Wargentin followed, ostensibly to continue his conversation with Stephan.

“Well?” she asked.

“Furious,” Conall reported. “Seriously, Jenevra, you need to be careful of him.”

“What’s all this about?” Richard shook his head at his little sister. “Now who’ve you upset?”